


Home Away From Home

by queeertrek



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Science Boyfriends, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeertrek/pseuds/queeertrek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is fresh off of Mars, making his slow journey through recovery in medbay. He's already fed up with staying in bed, but Chris is there to keep him company. They have the talk they should've had before Mark was left on Mars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Away From Home

There’s no good reason for Mark to be out of bed. He’s only been on _Hermes_ for thirty-six hours, and he should be sleeping. His body ached, and there were enough drugs in his system to sedate a horse.  The botanist’s legs wavered beneath him, a hand bracing himself against the closest wall. All he wanted to do was walk around medbay. But there was nowhere he could go from the junction he'd stopped at. Especially since he definitely wouldn’t make it down the next hall without falling over. Mark silently cursed his broken ribs as a quiet sound of fatigue left his lips. Footsteps could be heard from behind him. A soft, concerned voice called out to him.

 

“—Mark?”

 

Shit. Chris didn’t sleep much, did he?  
Mark assumed he’d been quiet. That assumption had been wrong, since he wasn’t used to being quiet… there was no one to be quiet _for_ on Mars. Needless to say, he was out practice when it came to sneaking around.

 

“I’m here. Don’t think I could get much further anyway. The bulkheads are hard to step over with shaky legs and broken ribs.”

 

Soft footsteps approached in the relative darkness. Mark looked over his shoulder to see a disheveled Chris Beck. He’d definitely been sleeping, half of his hair hair shoved to the side from being conked out at his desk. Mark’s chest hurt, but he didn’t want to go back and lay down. That meant nightmares might happen, and he definitely wasn’t up for it.  
Chris had been awake, worried about nightmares too. Whether he was worried for himself or for Mark, well, he wasn't telling.

 

“You should be in bed. Those ribs need to not move too much.”

 

“But medbay is boring as fuck. I can’t stay there forever.”

 

“Not forever. Just a week or so.”

 

There wasn’t more of a response than a sigh from Mark, a hand reaching out to hold onto the doctor’s shoulder. Chris could feel the desperation in his touch, and in response, his hand rested at the small of Mark’s back. It was an intimate gesture, but Chris didn't hesitate, or back off once the thought had hit him. “Let’s get you back into bed” Beck murmured, guiding Mark along. Their steps were slow, but Chris didn’t mind how Mark leaned against him. When he stumbled, the botanist’s hand went to hold Chris’ without hesitation.

 

The touch made them both pause, gazes meeting in the dark.

And they both continued without worrying over the implications of their touch.

 

Mark got back into bed, sitting up with a pillow behind his back. His hand didn’t leave Chris’ for a moment, fingers woven with the doctor’s. Chris was perched close by, switching on the clip light closest to them. The harsh light casted harsh shadows, bringing Mark’s gaunt face to light.

The harsh lines of his cheekbones made Chris’ body ache. Regret creased his brow, and guilt made his stomach churn. ~~He~~ _they_ had left Mark behind on Mars, and he’d survived beyond all odds. But Chris kept asking himself what that survival had cost. 

 

“I missed being able to touch someone.”

 

Chris squeezed Mark’s hand, since it was the simplest of replies that he knew how to give. After the crew knew Mark was alive, Chris had spent weeks trying to imagine what it was like. He tried to imagine how it was possible to live alone for so long. But Chris was sure his imaginings were noting compared to living it.  
The doctor was afraid to ask.

Maybe that was why Chris insisted on being so close. On never leaving Mark alone.  
He wanted to know where _his_ Mark Watney went. Mars took that Mark away from him, and by staying by his side, Chris was hoping he could find just a piece of the man he knew.

 

“That was the worst part. Like, on _Hermes_ , you can be _alone,_  but people are still around. But when there isn’t anyone to touch, or even to say hi to... that’s when you know you’re completely alone.”

 

“You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’m not gonna leave you alone unless that’s what you want. I – I wanna be here." A pause. "I _need_ to be here.”

 

There’s another pause before Mark found the nerve to open his mouth. His reply was soft, voice broken.

 

“I need you here too.”

 

Chris smiled, ignoring the wateriness in his eyes. Mark didn’t need to see him cry. Chris had managed to work through his emotions when Mark came on board, and again when he had to perform emergency surgery after Mark's arrival. But now, with this simple touch and such simple words, he was on the brink of tears.

Mark noticed, but only because he was sniffling just as much as Chris was.

 

After a moment, Chris toed off his shoes. Their hands released the gentle grasp they’d sustained so Chris could get into bed. Each movement was calculated, the doctor’s arms gentle as they held Mark's thin frame. They didn’t need to speak to communicate the mutual magnetism they felt. Being separate for a year had changed them, and brought to light the fact there wasn't time to wait. So they didn't.

The mens faces were a few inches apart, Mark’s forehead resting against Chris’ cheek. His breaths were soft, eyes half-lidded as they shared the relative silence. The hum of _Hermes_ and medical equipment filled the empty space. The rhythm of Chris’ heart in Mark’s ear was a gentle accompaniment.

 

“You’re warm… and you smell the same.”

 

“You -- you remembered how I smell?”

 

“Yeah… like vanilla sugar and a campfire.”

 

Chris just smiled in response, humming as his nose nuzzled Mark’s hair. The familiar scent of soap and dirt made him grin.

For two seconds, this felt like the old days, when they were back in training, on Earth. Where things had been safe.  
It dawned on him that Mark would be healthy if they were back home.  
Chris still blamed himself. 

 

“Mhm. I actually – nah, nah that’s embarrassing.”

 

 “What?”

 

“’s nothing, Chris. You’d laugh.”

 

“Yeah? Maybe I need to laugh. Go on, tell me.”

 

A pause, then a little bit of a chuckle.  
Even the chuckle sounded a little sad.

 

“I used to wear your shirts to bed. Y’know, in the Hab. They made me feel a little less alone.”

 

There’s a tug in Chris’ chest that makes him want to throw up. He just inhaled, eyes half-lidded as he tried not to dwell on the new knowledge. If nothing else, Chirs felt relieved. He’d been doing something similar on the _Hermes_. So maybe the two of them had more to talk about than Chris had assumed.

Which, all things considered, would calm his nerves.

Maybe Mark would never have to be alone again.

 

“I have one of your sweatshirts. It’s still at my desk. I wore it almost every day.”  
  


Mark, despite being less than half awake, smiled. This was leading to a much more complicated talk that he knew he didn’t have the brainpower for. But he let himself enjoy the closeness, humming to himself as he dozed. His last statement before sleep was quiet, tone _almost_ like his old self.

 

“Chris, you’re a fuckin’ nerd... my nerd, but a fuckin'  _nerd_."

 

**Author's Note:**

> These fuckin nerds. Look at them. Being such big nerds. I love it so much and need to write all of the Beckney trash. So. Damn. Important.
> 
> Also, this might start to be a collection/ series of Mark and Chris on their way back home from Mars. I haven't decided yet. Let me know what y'all think!


End file.
